


What I Love About You, Coda

by dragonofdispair



Series: Unrelated Prompt Responses [73]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, Collars, Cuddling & Snuggling, Kink Fail, Kink Negotiation, Leashes, M/M, Not porn, of a sort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-09 10:56:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18636733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonofdispair/pseuds/dragonofdispair
Summary: TF Speedwriting April 27 Prompt #4: BreakthroughEpilogue toWhat I Love About You:Prowl and Jazz try something new together.





	What I Love About You, Coda

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rizobact](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rizobact/gifts).



> Not beta’d.

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Jazz had a personality for every occasion. Some of them were outright masks, but others were... shades of the truth. Facets. It had been such a long time since he’d shown any part of himself without filtering himself through a personality constructed for the situation. With Prowl he came closest, but from the moment he’d seen Prowl’s doorwings, long before anything like love or even affection or _lust_ had entered the equation, there were facets he’d been determined never to show him. Not because he was afraid, but because he needed to develop a working relation with the shiny Praxan, so obviously a dominant, and some things would just get in the way. It had worked, or so he’d judged. They had their working relationship. Eventually they’d had more.

The first time they’d fallen into bed together, highgrade had made Jazz aggressive, and Prowl needy, and they’d fit so well together... It wasn’t until after, when a much shyer Prowl had stammered his way through an invitation to a romantic cafe that Jazz had thought it might be time to consider showing his hidden facets. 

He’d expected Prowl to bring up, well, leashes and all of that, and for them to have a very serious talk about Prowl’s expectations vs Jazz’s freedom. He’d been to Praxus before, after all. Classified, but the briefing and the trip itself had given him, he thought, a good idea of what Prowl wanted in a partner. But if Prowl was willing to keep it in the bedroom...

Instead, Prowl had talked about their favorite colors and favorite foods, gardening, recently read bookfiles or watched movies. Normal date stuff. They bickered and teased, which was by then normal them stuff, and later in the evening Prowl had put on Jazz’s favorite waltz and let Jazz dance them into bed again. No pushing or demanding or leash in sight... Jazz decided Prowl had already had the talk with someone about appropriate relationships in Iacon and was trying seduce Jazz on Jazz’s terms. He stuffed all talk of hidden facets, of bedroom roles vs public ones, safewords and favorite toys into the back of his mind for later. 

Then, well, he kind of forgot. Prowl said he wanted Jazz, and Jazz didn’t need submissive play to be either happy or himself. He didn’t need dominant play either, but that went without saying, even in his own mind. Otherwise he’d never have let himself fall into bed with a dominant Praxan, not even once. No matter how drunk he’d been.

Then the war, the truce, the so-fragile peace... and a trip to Praxus for a funeral where Jazz had finally let his partner see that final facet, playing at being a well-trained Praxan submissive to make things easier for his mate...

Jazz had missed his own mentor’s funeral. He would have done a _lot_ more than walk around for a few cycles on a leash to give Prowl at least that much closure.

He _hadn’t_ been willing to stand by an let his mate be attacked emotionally by a tall green blowhard while he was so obviously reeling. In the moment, he hadn’t even remembered the trouble he’d cause by pouncing the idiot. He shouldn’t have, but it had been oh, so satisfying to rip into him and give him a set of physical wounds to match Prowl’s emotional ones. 

But it had finally prompted that discussion about bedroom play and safewords and other things they really should have talked about earlier. 

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Prowl slowly turned the red, spiked collar in his hands. It looked like a nervous gesture, but Jazz saw his mate’s graceful fingers checking it for flaws, for places where it would catch on Jazz’s plating and be itchy, uncomfortable, or rub harshly. Since Jazz had originally picked out that thing, and he wasn’t about to put something uncomfortable on his own neck, he knew the collar was perfectly soft and smooth, the hard metal cushioned by a layer of foam and microfiber cloth. It was sweet, though, that Prowl was checking. “I love you, not any sort of power over you.”

Jazz smiled encouragingly. “I’m not giving up any power. This is just a game we’ll play for a while.”

“It wasn’t a game to me,” Prowl said pensively. “I’m not going to do anything you don’t want.”

“Right. And what I want right now is to see what it’s like. Come on, lay it on me, Ace.”

Prowl’s expression did something complicated, something between _really Jazz?_ and _apparently I was an idiot when I was younger_ at the sobriquet. Too bad, because Jazz actually kind of liked it. Better than either “master” or “sir”. He almost thought Prowl would object to it anyway, but he knew how stubborn Jazz could be, but then he sighed. “This,” he opened the collar and affixed it to Jazz’s neck, “comes off before we retire for the night. No recharging in it.”

“Sure thing, Ace.” He felt his plating shiver as the clasp closed, and he felt the gentle tug of the lax leash hanging between them. He brightened his visor and let his much smaller doors hang down. He saw the change in Prowl as well. _His_ doorwings flared up and out slightly, visually asserting his authority. Gorgeous. “Any more rules?” 

“Just be good,” Prowl murmured, stroking the leash thoughtfully. “I don’t want to punish you.”

Ooooh, _punishment._ If there was two things Jazz liked about this game it was being cared for, and being punished. Kaon didn’t exactly have any sex shops yet, but they had that rope Prowl had bought in Praxus, and a switch wasn’t hard to improvise...

But Prowl wanted him to be good, and Jazz could do that. For a little while. “Sure thing, Ace.” 

Prowl looked around their apartment, as though figuring out what they could do now that their game had started. 

Gently he tugged the leash to lead Jazz into their small fuel storage area. Neither of them were particularly creative cooks, so it had a variety of premade things. Prowl picked out a box of Jazz’s favorite cookies. “Are these good or would you prefer something else, pe— _Jazz?_ ”

“Yeah,” Jazz answered, a little confused, as much by being asked as Prowl’s self correction. Prowl already knew those were his favorites, had been since they’d met, and Praxan doms didn’t usually ask their submissives for input on minor decisions. But Prowl had asked. “Those are good.” Jazz liked them, and they’d be fun to nibble from Prowl’s fingers. “And it’s okay if you call me ‘pet’, Ace.” Jazz thought he’d kind of like being a ‘pet’ for this game. “You gonna hand feed me?” He tilted his head and scuffed his foot shyly, flirting.

“If you’d enjoy it,” Prowl assured, his confidence responding to something in Jazz’s mannerisms. “Eating from your dominant’s hands is something every Praxan submissive learns to do early. You said you wanted to know what it’s like.”

Jazz shivered. “Anything, Ace.”

Prowl nodded, and poured a generous helping of the cookies into a bowl. “Carry those,” he ordered, putting the bowl in Jazz’s hands. “Don’t eat any yet.”

Jazz almost lit up at the prospect of _punishment_. “Don’t know if I can resist, Ace. The cookies are soooo good.”

Prowl faltered, like he wasn’t sure what to do with that. “Don’t eat too many then,” he finally amended. Before Jazz could make good on eating anything, though, Prowl tugged Jazz back towards the shelves of bookfiles. Most were work. Most of the rest were sheet music or comic pamphlets or news articles. After a klik, Prowl selected something, then led Jazz into the berthroom.

They had a nice berth. Relatively nice anyway. Kaon’s manufacturing and importing was still a mess. 

Prowl arranged them on the berth with Jazz cuddled up against his chest. He put the bowl where he could reach it and placed the bookfile in Jazz’s hands. “Read to me.”

Read? Jazz thought they were going to be doing some kinky interfacing. “Ace?”

“You heard me... pet.” Jazz was pulled deeper into Prowl’s embrace and Prowl rested his head over Jazz’s. His hand pressed possessively against Jazz’s abdomen and he sighed. “Read, and I’ll give you a cookie.”

Quid pro quo game? Sure, Jazz could do that. He flicked on the bookfile.

He’d expected an erotic novel. Something to get them in the mood. No. It was just a news article, some fluff piece about how a community worked together during their after work joors to get a sculpture park repaired, and the Lord Protector coming down personally to dedicate and officially reopen it to the public...

He was interrupted from starting the next article by a cookie against his lips.

“Be sure and catch all the crumbs,” Prowl murmured while Jazz nibbled. Taking that as his cue, Jazz started licking his fingers, lavishing attention on the digits with the promise of equal attention elsewhere... He considered it a success when Prowl moaned softly. 

Less a success when Prowl went ahead and flipped the bookfile to the next article and commanded Jazz, “Read.” 

Not sure how long Prowl would be able to hear him over their fans, Jazz did so.

It was... nice. Jazz thought a little fuzzily. It wasn’t the sharp plunge down into a submissive headspace he’d had with other doms; instead it was tiny steps, coaxed with gentle petting and Prowl’s possessive weight pressing him into the mattress. Slowly Jazz felt his systems sync with Prowl’s, until he wasn’t really seeing what he was reading and his own voice became a susurrus of background noice. Sweetness on his tongue, and he tasted Prowl, savoring their gentle arousal. 

It was good. Jazz didn’t even realize he’d reached the end of the newspaper, or that they’d run out of cookies until they’d been laying there in silent enjoyment for several breems. They hadn’t been asleep, but Jazz wasn’t sure he’d call their collective staring at the wall meditation either. 

“Are you bored, pet?” Prowl murmured when Jazz stirred. He felt the tug of the collar as Prowl stroked the leash. 

Was he? “No.” It had been a little strange, but not boring. “Restless. Want to spice things up?”

“How so?” 

Jazz shook his head. Was this really what being a Praxan submissive would be like?

Prowl chuckled softly. “It’s what being _my_ submissive would be like.” 

“What about fragging? Or punishment?”

“I don’t punish submissives,” Prowl said firmly.

He didn’t? But— Jazz tugged on the spiked collar to draw attention to it, to the parameters of their game. “Not even if I talked to another dom?” he said in a sultry, tempting voice. Goading him to pick up that rope, that switch, and show him who was boss. “Flirted with him.”

Prowl’s doors stiffened, and Jazz felt the purely reflexive flash of _possessive/jealousy_ though his field. _Come on, spank me..._

Instead, Prowl took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He sat up, perfectly controlled, and took the collar off of Jazz’s neck. “Not even then,” he said softly. 

“Huh?” Jazz just stared stupidly at the collar as Prowl set it and the leash on the table next to the berth.

“Even if you were my submissive,” he continued, just as soft and more firmly. “I would never keep you from talking to anyone you wanted. And if you didn’t want, and he was harassing you, I would not take it out on you. Common, even _normal,_ as it is in Praxus, that rule is utterly unfair. This,” he looked away. “I know you think this a game, and I think I would be interested in figuring out the rules with you, but... this wasn’t a game to me, and there are reasons I abandoned it when I left.”

Awww... Jazz threw his arms around Prowl, pouncing them both into the blankets. He heard the bowl formerly filled with cookies hit the floor and bounce. Ooops. But right now he had Prowl, and Prowl needed all the cuddles. 

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End


End file.
